


The Broad Side of the Barn

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Tony and Clint (IronHawk) [7]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad guys drug Clint, Clint can't help but tell the truth, Confessions, Fluffy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sex Pollen, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tony.” The first word Clint had spoken the whole time. “Get me out of here before the backup team arrives. Tell Nat it’s a barn-door situation.” </p><p>It was Steve who responded first. “Of course. Hulk take Hawkeye back to the penthouse; Tony go with him. I’ll have Carol help interrogate these two. Tell JARVIS to institute the barn door protocol once you get there.”</p><p>“Barn door? What the fuck is a barn door?” Tony asked. </p><p>Next in my ongoing IronHawk series -- some humor, some fluff, and some angst, which just about describes Clint and Tony's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Broad Side of the Barn

**Author's Note:**

> Quick heads up on the tags. Clint is given a drug by the baddie of the week which makes him horny and unable to stop talking. Sex and confessions follow. There are brief mentions of past rape/non-con in Clint's life. Clint is aware and understands what is happening; he chooses to be with Tony before the drug takes effect. So, in my head, what happens between the two of them is perfectly consensual.

Tony was getting good and fucking tired of waking up tied to a chair. Jesus Christ, but this kidnapping thing was growing old. Eighteen attempts and seven times that succeeded, if he counted the one when he was nineteen and Tri-Delts took him to Vegas for the weekend.  Obviously, from the hulking thug who was punching Clint’s face with a smug satisfied look, this time wasn’t going to end up in a hot tub with tequila shots. They were in a laboratory, so not HYDRA; the green helmeted guys liked cold cells with metal doors. Not A.I.M. either; there wasn’t a single yellow radiation suit to be found. Just three thugs … why do they always wear leather jackets and jeans? Is there some sort of union rules or something? … and one scientist and a woman in a thousand dollar suit. Tony was going with the pissed off business competitor.

“Ah, Mr. Stark. I was beginning to think you were going to sleep away the day.” Suit lady wandered over to where Tony was tied down, barely flicking a glance at Clint’s battered face.  His blue-grey eyes tracked the speaker’s every movement and met Tony’s with a clear message that Clint was ready if Tony started something.  “I’d say it was a pleasure, but that’s probably true only for me. Let me introduce myself.  Sunset Bain. I’m a big fan of your tech.”

“Bain.” Tony pretended to think. These posers always wanted Tony to remember their names; buying a billboard would be a whole hell of a lot easier than this. “Yeah, no, sorry. Never heard of you.”

“I’d be surprised if you had.” Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a neat chignon, only one curl hanging down by her left ear. “My livelihood depends on going unnoticed.”

Ah, he thought, weapons merchant. Yeah, he’d pissed a bunch of those off in the last few years. “Let’s save a little time. No, I won’t build your weapon. No, I won’t give you plans to any tech. No, you can’t have the suit. No, I won’t give you any passwords.”

“That’s fine, Tony … I can call you Tony, right? Since we’re going to be partners.” She smiled and Tony knew in the pit of his stomach that she wasn’t all there. Not good. Crazy weapons dealer? Yeah, they just might be in serious trouble. “Let’s think of this as a trial run, okay? Dr. Simon?”

The white jacketed scientist, a small African-American woman with wire rimmed spectacles, had a syringe in one hand and latex gloves on her hands. “Ready to go, Sunset. I can’t wait to see how this works.”

“What am I, your lab monkey? You kidnap me just to test some new drug?” Tony was thinking fast, but he couldn’t figure this out. She’d made no demands, not even asked a single question. This wasn’t going the way he expected.

“Oh, no, Tony, not you. That’s why we grabbed Clive or Clark or whatever his name really is. The bodyguard act isn’t fooling anyone with a brain, by the way. He’s living with you … you’re not really subtle. That’s why this is a perfect remedy for our problem. You see, I’m afraid we really haven’t had time to start human trials on the enhanced formula. Really a shame when you hear the whole story. Dr. Simon here came up with the idea for a way to use rohypnol for patients with panic attacks and depression, among just a few mental illnesses. Quit revolutionary.”

“The date rape drug? Really?” He watched as the thugs held Clint still to stop his struggling and the doctor poised the needle above Clint’s neck. “Look, bitch, you threaten my friends and I’m never going to help you. You can take that to the bank.”

“Oh, he’ll probably be okay, won’t he Doctor?” Bain asked.

“There’s a good 45% chance there will be no significant side effects,” Dr. Simon answered, seemingly unphased by those odds. “He’ll just be very, very uninhibited and answer any question we ask him. And he might have an erection lasting more than four hours. Can’t seem to shake the arousal aspect of the drug combo.”

“Truth serum that makes you horny?” Tony was wiggling now, trying to get his hands free; he couldn’t remember if he’d had time to push the panic button during their kidnapping. Everything was fuzzy which meant they’d been drugged then too. “What happened to helping people with anxiety disorder?”

“Oh, in the right dosage, this is a miracle drug. Just tweaked the basic structure and grafted on a little bit from a few others and, voila, obsessive compulsives can live nice normal lives. The testing for sociopathic and psychopathic illnesses is looking very promising,” Dr. Simon said.

“Then what is this? What do you want from us?” Tony asked, straining against the ropes as he watched Clint flinch when the needle sank into skin. The doctor pressed the plunger and the clear liquid disappeared into Clint’s system.

“This, Tony, is the opening of negotiations. In its strongest form, this drug can make the Hulk calm or Nick Fury tell the truth. Once you see a demonstration, I’ll be open to your best bid,” Bain said.

A loud crash, falling roofing tiles and the Hulk landed on the floor, cracking the concrete under him. Sam flew in after him, circling the room, looking for enemies; Steve was right behind. The three thugs ran, but not fast enough to escape the Hulk’s reach. Dr. Simon and Sunset Bain simply raised their hands and gave up without a fight.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked.

“They gave Clint something, some kind of drug. Get me out of these bonds so I can check the computer, see what it was. We’ll need Carol in the lab on this one.” Tony was up from his chair as soon as Sam cut through the ropes, but there was nothing to find. The computer held no files and the only vial was empty, the one the doctor had used for the injection.

“Tell me where the data is,” Tony demanded, yanking Bain’s head back with a hand in her hair.

“The drug takes twenty to thirty minutes to get to full effect. Let me know what you think. You’ll know where to find me.”  She just smiled, calm in the face of Tony’s anger. “Enjoy the next six to eight hours. Ask him some interesting questions for me.”

“Tony.” The first word Clint had spoken the whole time. “Get me out of here before the backup team arrives. Tell Nat it’s a barn-door situation.”

It was Steve who responded first. “Of course. Hulk take Hawkeye back to the penthouse; Tony go with him. I’ll have Carol help interrogate these two. Tell JARVIS to institute the barn door protocol once you get there.”

“Barn door? What the fuck is a barn door?” Tony asked.

* * *

 

“As in shut the barn door before the horses get out,” Natasha explained. It had taken only ten minutes to get from the warehouse in Jersey back to Tony’s apartment in the Tower, but Clint was already beginning to sweat and shiver. As soon as he was ensconced on the couch, Natasha had arrived. “It means someone’s going to be spilling secrets and needs to get to a secure location. You’d be surprised how many want-to-be truth serums there are floating around out there. JARVIS can monitor his condition from here. Needless to say, someone should be watching him, and since you’re already into all of SHIELD’s secrets anyway, you’re elected.  Carol’s in the lab working on the blood sample I just sent down; she’ll keep you updated. I’m going to have a little chat with Ms. Bain.”

“And if I go into cardiac arrest or something, the Tower’s med lab is remotely monitoring my vitals,” Clint added. Now that it was just the three of them, he’d started talking and couldn’t seem to stop. “Plus, if blue balls become a problem, you’re right here. Neat solution, huh?”

“And on that note,” Natasha walked towards the elevator, “I’m going to leave you to it. I have no desire to go blind or deaf watching you fuck like rabbits.”

“Really? Then why do you have the comm lines tapped to your own feed? So you and Steve can get ideas?” Clint tried to bite his lip to stop the words but it didn’t help. “Oh, Jesus, Tasha, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, I already knew that,” Tony offered. “Not the comm lines part, but the Steve and Widow here doing their own horizontal mambo. He’s the opposite of subtle with his puppy dog eyes and longing looks.”

“And you didn’t say anything? Wow, Tony, that shows some serious restraint on your part,” Clint said. “I mean, you do announce to everyone a good chunk of our sex life over dinner, so, hey, you can’t blame me for thinking you’d spill the beans about Nat climbing Steve like a tree … oh, okay, this is like being really, really drunk, but not being physically impaired.” Clint snagged a pillow from the couch and tossed it across the room, hitting a small crystal award Tony had on a shelf on the far side of the room.  “I feel pretty damn good all of the sudden. Like, let’s go for a ride. Get the suit and take me out to buzz the Baxter Building. No, wait! I bet I can hit Reed’s satellite dish from here! Let me grab my bow.”

“Don’t leave me!” Tony said in mock terror, turning towards Natasha.

“Good luck,” was all she said as she stepped in the open elevator and punched the button.

Clint was trying to stand on the back of the couch. Tony pushed him off; Clint caught his arm, pulled him down and they both tumbled onto the cushions. Clint righted himself and propped his feet up on the ottoman.  “Come on, Tony. Talk to me. Ask me stupid questions so I don’t go telling things like Maria Hill’s crush on Bruce … oh, shit, she’s going to kill me.”

Tony laughed, untangling himself from Clint’s octopus limbs. “Water cooler gossip it is, then. So, what do you know about Thor and that blonde sorceress who keeps showing up? Have they done the nasty?  Before or after Jane?”

“Nah, Amora just has this thing for Thor and, really, who can blame her with those arms and abs and cock the size of a … shit, that doesn’t mean anything okay? I’m just looking, hard not to look when we live in the same building and have communal showers where I can get a nice long look at Steve’s ass and Bruce is no slouch either, although I think anyone crazy enough to try the Hulk on for size wouldn’t be walking for a week or more.” Clint slapped a hand over his mouth. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he mumbled.

“Well now, this is priceless,” Tony said, enjoying every minute of Clint’s discomfort. “Tell me more, Clint. Tell me more.”

“You are a bastard, you know that? I’d turn you over my knee but I bet you’d like that even more.” Clint said, actually blushing. Tony couldn’t blame him: the thought of his naked ass beneath Clint’s hand was pretty arousing. “Oh, fuck, do not get me started on that line of thought.”

Tony got up and sauntered over to the bar. “JARVIS, any reason Clint can’t have a drink?”

“According to Dr. Danvers and Dr. Banner, there is a sixty-seven percent that alcohol will heighten the effect of the drug,” JARVIS answered. “They recommended lots of water for hydration and …”

“A drink it is then.” Tony ignored the rest of what JARVIS had to say, putting ice in glasses. “Vodka, scotch, whiskey … what do you want?”

“I don’t like vodka shots.” Clint punched a pillow in frustration but kept talking anyway. “Don’t tell Nat. That’s her favorite when she’s feeling like shit, shooting it ice cold; I just do it with her for solidarity, you know? I’d rather have Gentleman Jack. Poured on your dick for me to suck off.”

Tony grinned, wide with a flash of teeth. “Oh, my boy, this is going to be so much fun. Two Gentlemen Jacks coming right up.”

He poured the drinks and carried them over to the couch where Clint’s head had fallen backwards. Eyes closed, he was absently rubbing the bulge in his jeans, soft sighs slipping from his mouth.

“So …” Tony dragged the word out; Clint cracked his lids and looked at Tony through his lashes. “Fury.”

“No. No, no, no, no.” Clint sat up and shook his head. “Don’t do that to me Tony.”

“Ah, hell, I already know all of Fury’s nasty little SHIELD secrets. I want the good stuff.  Who is he fucking?”

Clint coughed, almost spitting up the swig of whiskey he had just taken. “Oh, God, Tony. He’s going to fucking kill me if I tell you. That’s the closest held secret in SHIELD.”

“Coulson? Is Agent Agent and Eye Patch doing the horizontal mambo?” Tony asked.  “Wonder who’s on top?”

“Gah, now that’s burned into my brain, thank you very much,” Clint said. “Fury is as hetero as it gets. He’s got a preference for petite women who can kill you without breaking a sweat.”

“Romanov? You’re shitting me!” Tony crowed. “Wait, what about Steve?”

“Not Tasha. Melinda May. Have you met her? They call her the cavalry because she’s a one woman rescue team. Small and deadly. Trust me. You know how much you’re scared of Natasha cutting off your balls? Melinda will do much worse if you even breath that you know,” Clint warned him. “And since I happen to like your balls right where they are, maybe you can just pretend I didn’t say anything at all.”

“So Coulson. Cellist, right?” Tony sat on the back of the couch and watched Clint grimace.  “Come on, Katniss. Spill the dirt of our favorite agent.”

“Audrey. Nice woman. Didn’t work. Phil’s too married to the job.” Clint clenched his fists and Tony knew he was trying to stop.

“And? What else?” Tony kicked his feet over and balanced on the top of the couch behind Clint, letting his legs fall on either side of Clint’s body. He threaded his fingers into Clint’s air and started massaging at the temples. “Come on, you know you want to tell me.”

Clint groaned then the words came out. “Phil and Pepper went on a date and he really likes her and she wants more but Phil doesn’t want to disrupt the team so he’s not going to be more than friends even though he’s got a major hard-on for competent women and she the biggest bad-assed motherfucker of all of them, maybe more than Natasha and Melinda combined. Oh, fuck, I’m not supposed to know any of that, I just overheard them one day and this was a shitty idea for you to be here with me because now Pepper and Phil are going to be mad because you’re going to rush off and do some big gesture to show them it’s okay like trick them into the jet for lunch in Paris or some such shit and it will be all my fault.”

Tony laughed; he couldn’t help it. Clint was normally tight lipped about the others, relying on jokes and sass to deflect questions he didn’t want to answer. This free flow of information was almost too good to be true. For a second, Tony’s conscience raised an objection  -- maybe he shouldn’t ask Clint things he wanted to know -- but then he thought, nah.

“Don’t sweat it,” Tony told Clint. “I knew Pepper was interested in someone else. Honestly, I’d rather it be Agent Agent than one of those pretty boy actors she was toying with. Coulson can take care of her. And I wouldn’t send them to Paris. Pepper likes the shopping in Monaco better.”

“Phil likes Spanish food. Maybe Madrid? He loves the Cafe Oriental there.” Clint rubbed his hands along the top of his thighs, a constant motion. The drug must be revving up his system, Tony thought. That or the alcohol. Maybe Jarvis had been right about that. “I like the House of Pepe in Cordoba. Best fried eggplant ever. Or the Cafe Mauresque in Canterbury. Have you been there? Downstairs, sit on pillows, patatas bravas to die for. Let’s get the jet and go right now. We can fuck our way over the Atlantic and be there in time for an early dinner.”

“Or we can order from Boqueria and have it delivered in under an hour,”  Tony suggested. “The fucking I’m all in for but probably not a plane ride right now.”

“Okay,” Clint agreed, pushing up from the couch and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Okay. Food sounds good. This stuff is worse than weed; I feel like I could eat a horse.  Or balance on the back of one and shoot at moving targets. Hey, do you own any horses? I love horses. I’m out of practice; we should go riding sometime and I can show you my old routine. Ever had sex on horseback? A-fucking-mazing. If you match the rhythm of the horse to your thrusts it’s exponential orgasms. We should try that.”

“You’ve had sex on horseback?” Why that surprised Tony, he couldn’t say. Theoretically, he knew Clint had grown up in a circus, so he should have expected more colorful stories. “Is that the kinkiest sex you’ve ever had?”

“Nope.” Clint was pacing now, circling the couch and sipping at his whiskey. “One time I was hired to take out this drug cartel guy. Only way into his compound was as part of the weekly entertainment. The performance included a whip, shibari ropes, tiny strips of black leather for a costume, and a fucking machine.”

Tony sputtered and coughed, the alcohol he’d been drinking going down the wrong way. “What?” he croaked when he could breath again. “For an audience? A real fucking machine?”

“Yep. I was the lucky one; I knew how to use the whip so I got to don the costume and wield it on the other volunteer. He was tied up and put on the machine for the duration.” Clint stopped at the bar and refilled his glass. “Guy turned out to be an undercover DEA agent. When the shit hit the fan, we both got the hell out of there in one piece sans some patches of skin and our dignity. Actually ran into the guy after I started working for SHIELD; we did a joint operation with the DEA and there he was. Nice dude. He bought me a beer.”

“Okay, you win. You have better sex stories than me.” Tony shrugged. “Although you could have told me about the whip thing. How come you’ve never offered to use one on me?”

“Didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.” Clint wandered past the windows and back over to the couch. “The kidnapping and all. Thought things like that would remind you of what the 10 Rings did. I mean, you handle it well and all, but you’re as fucked up as I am about dealing with emotional trauma. Hell, look at how well I’m repressing the whole Loki mind fuck and his screwed up shit. Got those head docs completely fooled that nothing happened, that I’m okay and ready for action.  We could give lessons , you and me. The Stark and Barton method of shoving bad shit into closets and ignoring it.”

Tony had years of practice at maintaining his ‘i don’t care’ attitude and that was the only reason he didn’t react to Clint’s rambling. Having read all of Clint’s files -- all of them, even the ones Fury didn’t hand over before the battle -- Tony knew next to nothing about the sceptre’s effects; Clint consistently said he didn’t remember anything he’d done while under its control. Obviously, that was a load of bullshit.

“Water sports are out,” Tony said instead. “Funny thing, but after being waterboarded, getting peed on just doesn’t do it for me. Not too big on being tied down, but a nice spanking now and again, I could do that.”

“Had a guy one time want to take a dump on my chest;  not my cup of tea.” Clint snorted a half-laugh. “Kinda hate being drugged, you know; not being in control of what comes out of my mouth, yeah, I don’t like it. But, hey, it’s not like you’re going to send me out to kill my friends. That’s what I like about you, Tony. You’re more likely to ask me to draw my name in arrows on the Washington Monument or fuck you upside down on a trapeze. That I can handle.”

“You got me there. Drunken mayhem, that’s me. Sorry you missed my birthday party last year. It was a hoot and a half.” Tony wasn’t sure whether to get up and go over to Clint or stay where he was. Damn it, he wasn’t good at this sort of shit, the personal stuff. “Wrecked the Malibu house, Rhodey and me. I was so smashed I don’t remember most of it.”

“Memories are overrated,” Clint kicked the back of the couch, his mood shifting quickly. “Deal with it, the shrinks say. Talk about it. Get it out. It will get better.” He snorted with disgust. “What good would that do? If Thor knew? Make him madder at his brother? Nah, he’d just go all Thor on me and try to help me even more than he already does. Gah, Steve would go ballistic and Tasha'd break all kinds of treaties and put a dagger in Loki’s heart.”

He had to ask; Tony couldn’t help himself. Anger was bubbling up Tony’s throat as he imagined the worst.  “You remember it all, don’t you? What exactly did Loki do to you Clint?”

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck… Damn it, Tony, I wanted it, okay? The scepter made me want to please him. No pain, no shame, it’s just the same as any one-night stand. Regret it happened, but nothing else.” Clint spun on his heel and stalked over to Tony. “Is that what you want to know? You want a blow-by-blow of his technique? Wasn’t much of it. Wham, bam, thank you …”

“Clint. Stop.” Tony grabbed his hand and tugged him forward. “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me who you think’s going to end up on the throne of Westernos? The dragon girl or the snow bastard?”

“Not going to work, Tony. Only one way to shut me up.” Clint dropped down onto the couch and pushed Tony’s legs apart, sliding his hands along his inner thighs. “Won’t be the best blow job ever, but I know what you like and I can’t talk if my mouth is full.”

This was one of those moments when Pepper would say Tony should be noble and talk to Clint about what he’d said, that having sex wouldn’t solve anything. But Clint was too much like Tony for that to work; mindless sexual release might be just the thing to get Clint through what was shaping up to be a bad trip. And Tony wasn’t turning down Clint, not when he was in this state.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tony unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. “I seem to remember you promising to blow me in the suit a couple times. You ready to pay up?”

“Oh, hell, yes.” Clint squeezed Tony’s knees and, just like that, his eyes sparkled with mischief again. “Want to do it while in mid-flight?”

“Don’t tempt me.” Yeah, Tony’d thought about that. “When you’re sober and can hang on. For now, we’ll just go with the suit.”

“I am in perfect control of my facilities,” Clint argued. “But, okay, we’ll start with the suit. On the balcony.”

“JARVIS?” Tony grinned. “Get the suit.”

It was hot and fast, Tony barely getting a hand on the railing before Clint was on his knees and had Tony’s cock in his mouth. God, but Clint was good at it; when he focused on something, Clint brought an intensity that rocked Tony’s world. He didn’t even try to drag it out; Clint went straight for the kill, sucking hard, pressing his nose against the metal as he took Tony deep. In an embarrassingly short time, Tony came  with a groan, his head spinning.  The Clint was kissing him, rubbing against Tony’s thigh; one armored hand around Clint’s cock was all Clint needed and he was splattering come all over the gleaming surface.

“Feeling better?” Tony asked, sliding down to sit against the glass next to Clint.

“Took the edge off,” Clint admitted. “But a flight around Reed’s place would go a long way towards burning the drug off.”

“You’re on. I’ve got some empty arrowheads we can fill up with the new flame retardant. It needs a test run; think you can lure Johnny out?” Tony grinned; he’d left his helmet off for their little interlude.

“I’ll muss that perfect hair; that’ll get him riled up.” Clint bounced up, all energy and ready to go. “Give me five to gear up. Hey, is Hammer in town? I got the paintball arrow stocked in glowing purple neon.”

* * *

 

“Oh, fuck, I think that’s all I’ve got left.” Tony flopped on his back, chest covered with sweat. God, but Clint had  ridden him hard and worn him out. And he’d loved every damn second of it. Creative didn’t begin to cover an uninhibited Clint Barton; Tony had actually learned a few things even he didn’t know. “I’m going to crash.”

“Better enjoy it now; I’m not getting up again for a week at least.” Clint crawled up to Tony and curled along his side, laying his head on Tony’s shoulder. “Thank God, I think the drug is wearing off. I’m going to feel that back bend tomorrow.”

“Going to start calling you Gumby,” Tony said with a chuckle. “Damn, Legolas, that was some fine fucking.”

“We’re good at that. Fucking.” Clint’s skin was still slightly too warm. He should be cooling off faster. Must be a lingered effect. “If that was all there was to it, I’d be the king of relationships.”

“If this were a soap opera, this is the moment we’d discover you’re my little brother.” Tony thought about it. “Strangely, that’s kind of hot now that I think about it.”

Clint snorted. “What’s a little incest after everything we’ve done, eh?”

Running a hand along the curve of Clint’s back, Tony watched the blue grey eyes drift closed then open again. “Probably a good thing there’s not any more mini-Howards out there. The world can only handle one of me.”

“Don’t do that.” Clint’s voice was quiet, his lips moving against Tony’s skin. “Down yourself.  The world is lucky to have you. You’ve saved it enough times. What I can’t understand is why you put up with an ex-carnie loser like me.”

“Trapeze skills aside? Let’s see. You fill up my hard drive with crappy science fiction movies, drink my scotch, brought a cat into the penthouse and yet you still keep your own place.” Tony shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “As far as being a loser goes, maybe it just takes one to know one.”

“You haven’t asked me, you know.” Clint tilted his chin up and looked at Tony. “To move in.  I don’t go where I’m not wanted.”

“Good God, I made room in the closet for you. MIght as well have bought an ad during the Super Bowl. But if you want, I’ll renta billboard in Times Square. How shall I ask? Hey, Robin Hood, want to live in my forest? Oh, I know.” Tony caught Clint’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Cupid, wanna store your arrows in my quiver?”

“Jesus, Tony,” Clint started to chuckle and couldn’t seem to stop. “That’s so you. Redefining romance for the new century.”

“And you love it.” The word slipped out before Tony knew he’d formed it.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, snuggling tighter and tucking his nose in Tony’s neck. “I do.”

“Good. I’d hate to be the only one,” Tony replied.

Despite being worn out, Tony lay awake long after Clint succumbed to sleep, Clint’s words bouncing in his head, replaying over and over again. Worries about Sunset Bain and this new drug were exclipsed by itchy fingers longing for his gauntlet to aim at Loki’s head. Tightening his hold on Clint’s sleeping body, Tony stared at the ceiling and did what he did best.

He made plans to take out Loki once and for all.

 

 


End file.
